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Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary...In there stepped a stately Raven from the saintly days of yore...
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| Though thy crest is shorn and shaven, thou art sure not craven, ghastly grim and ancient Raven.. | |
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But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only that one word. "Nevermore."
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| Wretch! Thy good hath lent thee--Respite, respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Forget this lost Lenore! | |
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While the Raven spoke, on column perching, my kitty sat, on bookcase searching, and hopped on the Raven, afterwards, licking it's paws and burping. Quoth the kitty, "Delicious."
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